


Cold Comfort

by pocketmouse



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Episode Tag, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-30
Updated: 2010-05-30
Packaged: 2017-10-09 19:24:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/90708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocketmouse/pseuds/pocketmouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's always time. There's never time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: SPOILERS FOR EPISODE 5X09, COLD BLOOD.
> 
> Can be read as slight implications of threesomery.

He distracts Amy, and refuses to feel guilty about it. A bright smile and a request to check on Mo and Elliot one last time before they leave, and Amy's out the door, trotting down the street without a care. His smile crumbles.

Amy and Rory's room is still littered with both their belongings. The Doctor picks through them carefully, feeling like a trespasser in his own home. He wants to leave it all here, make Amy ask, _remember_. But the chance for that has passed, the pivotal moment gone. He gathers trousers, a shirt, the jacket from Betraxos IV, socks, a hat, more socks. One of his bowties has slipped behind the dresser and he shoves that in his pocket, until it's just the mess of Amy's own belongings, and every touch of Rory is bundled awkwardly in his hands.

He's done this before. Companions don't always leave the TARDIS intentionally, it's far more common than he'd like. But it still feels wrong. His hand aches and tingles with a phantom pain, and his mind is spinning out possible futures even as it retreads moments past.

Kicking the door shut behind him, the Doctor hesitates in the corridor. He's done this before, and he has a room for things left behind. Sometimes it feels like the TARDIS is nothing but. But as he moves down the hall at last, he knows that's not his destination. Instead, it's his own door that he comes to next, his cold and not-often-used room. He doesn't know if it's right, but nothing feels right. His brain keeps jumping from timeline to timeline, with or without him, chasing down endless possibilities. He doesn't want to give up just yet, even if there's nothing he can possibly do.

He's not sure what to do with the things he's gathered. He doesn't have a wardrobe or a dresser, not a proper one. And these wouldn't belong in the walk-in, anyway. He sets them awkwardly on a chair for the moment, a sock sliding down to the floor.

He picks up the picture frame from the top of the pile. "Well, Rory, looks like it's just you and me now." The picture is actually of Amy and Rory both, them smiling with their heads together, like the photo from Rory's stag party.

The Doctor jumps off the bed so suddenly that the picture topples back, but he doesn't care, racing out the door. He only barely beats Amy back to the console room, he has just enough time to scoop the small velvet box off the floor before the door opens, and he hides his hands behind his back as she smiles at him, walking with purpose.

"All set then," she says confidently. "Where are we off to now, then? I think you did promise me Rio."

"Yeah, but it looks like I can't quite manage it," he says. "How about Venice?" he asks.

"Doctor," she says, exasperated. "We were just there."

He fiddles with the box. "Right, right. Thought maybe if I aimed for Venice, I might hit somewhere else instead, though. Still, there's always something." She takes a step closer and he moves back, circling around the console. He pockets the box as he does so.

There's always something.


End file.
